a god irascible
by ghuleh
Summary: She bore him with grief in her heart and a violence new to her soul. A son despised by King and all but loved, perhaps, as much as she could bear. The time had arrived for her to become the true Mother. (Drabble to go along with upcoming story.)


He is a loud little thing, her newborn son. He cries out constantly and throws bundles of his blankets clear across the room. His attendants scamper around uselessly, wringing their hands in attempts to calm him. Hera restrains a sigh of contempt for the fools. With a wave of her hand she dismisses them and as they bow, retreating from her chambers uneasily, she crosses the marble floor to the babe. She looks down at him, dark haired as she, and he is silent.

He is a sweet babe when he obeys. There is hardly any trace of his father in those violent, dark eyes and Hera realizes that she loves him as fiercely as she hates his conception. He will no doubt grow to be a terror, she can sense that. But she knows they all hold such a part of madness in their veins. Her little son, as hateful as she is towards his father, will be hers alone.

"You are not like him." She coos gently, taking her babe in her arms. It is the first time she has held him since his birth. He is not a small child but he is so soft she wonders how he can create such chaos for his attendants. She supposes she should feel pity for them but there is a satisfaction in watching Zeus realize his only male child is quite opposite of his charms.

"I hope you terrorize your father as he has me." She laughs as sweetly as she can.

Ares gazes up at her and she is rewarded with a gurgle of delight.

Hera is a guardian of motherhood afterall and she holds her son tightly as she dreams of Zeus' suffering.

...

...

..

.

But it would never come to be.

Zeus continued with his dalliances and Ares grew more and more violent. He ran around the palace with great shrieks, chasing his attendants and occasionally sneaking upon his mother to frighten her. She knew his games, sensing his small presence behind her. When he would throw his arms around her with a battle cry and press a kiss to her cheek, she would roll her eyes in amusement.

Zeus had been gone for longer than she cared to think about and she tried to let her son distract her. She knew he could not stand to be around his male child, even more than the others let on. It was not a pleasant time for the other Olympians. The silence of their palace had been interrupted by the growing war-god's antics. It was a terrible time for mortals as well for as Ares played with his small sword of steel, their wars raged on. But Hera could remember no other time in her existence, save the few decades after Kronus' defeat, that her heart did not grow dark with fear and hate.

And so she stands before her eldest son now, grown and handsome as he is violent. She can see his impatience as he regards her evenly.

How they have changed since the last time he had thrown her over his shoulder in his rough jesting, claiming her a 'battle token of defeated Olympus'. She had shrieked and beat him over his back before laughing hysterically at his shouts of victory. That was before Zeus brought Athena into their lives, before Ares sought out Aphrodite and before Hera decided to finally fight back for her life with her attempt at treason. She had been strung up with chains of gold and Ares had returned to find her being nursed in Demeter's bed in a pool of her own ichor. He had smelled of vervaine and roses.

She forgave him now, if there were anything to forgive. He was strong but he lacked discipline, something Zeus had always favored in his precious Athena. But he knew violence as no other and for this, her final act of defiance, she would need him.

"You are pensive, Queen Mother." He remarks appraisingly. "Somewhere on earth a mortal woman must be awaiting a terrible fate."

She smiles, remembering Ares' fury at Zeus for punishing only one of all the gods responsible for their treason. He had sent Demeter away that day, calling her a horrid array of cowardly names and took Hera's feathered crown that had fallen on the marble floor.

"Do you recall those words you said to me so long ago?" She asks. "When the great treason of Olympus had occurred?"

He begins to speak but there is a confusion in his eyes that stops him. She does not blame him should he have forgotten. He was always a temperamental child, speaking words of passion before his mind could properly sort them. It doesn't sting her now as it might have once before.

"You picked up my crown as I lie bleeding in Demeter's bed and I believed you would scold me for being foolish. I _was_ foolish but I was desperate. I am not desperate now, son. I am ready."

"Queen Mother-" He begins, eyes alight now with excitement.

"Silence." Hera holds up a hand, reaching to pull him closer. He is taller than her now, as he has been for centuries. It is the closest they have stood together in a very long time. "You told me to get up. 'Clean yourself, Queen' you said, 'and once your wounds have healed, rise to show them no despair.' Well my son, child of my body, I _have_ risen and I have a fury in me that you would be proud of."

She drew him close, for the first time in her false adornment of Goddess of Motherhood, and embraced him. He remained still in her arms causing Hera to laugh at his hesitancy. He was not soft, the hard lines of his body a far cry from the child he had been when she loved him.

No, he was not soft and gentle to her but she longed for him to be her son again.

"There is one somewhere awaiting a terrible fate." She continues. "But it is not someone on earth."


End file.
